The Story of Frendalex

In the middle of the village square was an old barren tree. Its bark was gnarled and knobbled and for as long as people could remember the tree had never borne fruit. If you stood by the tree and glanced towards the Inn you would notice a strange face at the window staring back.

Sitting at a small table in the darkest corner of the Inn sat Frendalex. It had always been her place and she always sat alone staring at the old tree. No one could remember a time when Frendalex had not sat at the table. Nor could they remember a time when the people were not a little scared of her.

Perhaps it was her hair which was coarse and seemed dirty, or perhaps it was her eyes which had a glint of yellow and seemed to dart around the room from the shadows. Or perhaps it was her left arm that had no hand and which she usually kept covered with her raggety shawl.

Whatever it was that gave the people their fear, one thing was certain: there was something strange about Frendalex.

Some called it a gift, some a curse, but whatever it was the people were grateful for it. For whenever an animal fell ill the children would take it to Frendalex at her table.

If the animal was small Frendalex would take it in her right hand; if it was larger she would rest her hand upon its heart. She would close her eyes and make a small clicking noise. Then she would fall silent and all those watching would hold their breath.

Finally Frendalex would speak. "This animal needs lovage," she would say, or some other herb or lotion. Once the animal was given its treatment it would soon recover.

Sometimes Frendalex would have a darker voice. "This animal now needs its rest, it is ready to go on for there is nothing in this world left to hold it," and the people knew that death would soon come.

Frendalex would never take payment for her gift but she would ask for a service.

All who brought her a sick animal were given the same strange task. "Dig under the old barren tree and find me something that will bring me luck," she said to each and every one.

At first this had been easy as there were plenty of shiny stones and seeds in the soil to take to Frendalex. She would hold them briefly and gaze with her sharp yellow eyes before announcing, "This will not bring me luck," and she would cast it aside. Her voice was never filled with anger at these times, just disappointment.

As the years had passed by it was harder and harder for the children to find anything in the ground under the great tree. Its roots had been dug right round and the soil was fine and sifted.

One day a young boy walked nervously into the Inn. He did not want to have to see Frendalex but he knew that if he didn't his pet hare might die. Quietly he walked towards the dark corner carrying his hare in a basket.

Frendalex moved her eyes from the old barren tree and gazed upon the child. In the half light the young boy could see the coarse hairs that grew around the old woman’s mouth and he shuddered. Frendalex smiled as if she could read his mind.

Softly the young boy pushed the basket, with the sick hare inside, across the table and with tears in his eyes he said, "Can you help him?".

Frendalex placed her hand upon the hare's heart and closed her yellow eyes. The boy watched as a single tear rolled down her bristled face.

"Go and bring me something to give me luck," she said.

"But you haven't said what to do," the boy stammered. His father touched him on the shoulder and guided him out of the Inn. At the doorway the boy looked back and saw Frendalex stroking the sick hare and staring into its eyes.

The young boy ran to the old barren tree and began to dig. The soil was soft and easily removed but there was nothing to find. Deeper and deeper he dug until he was almost at the bottom of the tree from where its first root would have grown.

There, for a brief moment, amongst the thick roots he saw something. As the soil tumbled back into the hole it disappeared from view but he knew it was there. He reached his arm deep into the roots of the tree and pulled at a small silver chain. It held firm at first and then suddenly came away. Holding the chain up into the light he saw a gnarled and grubby shape hanging from it. The more he stared at it the more horrible it looked.

It was old matted hair with horrible black nails sticking out. He was going to tear it off and take just the chain to Frendalex but he didn't want to waste any time getting back to see his hare.

When he ran into the Inn he was breathless. People had gathered around the table to watch what would happen. Bravely he pushed them aside and walked towards the corner. An old hand was stretched out towards him so he rested the chain and its ugly pendant in her palm.

She shuddered as it landed on her skin and the people knew something was different. Within moments his sick hare was sitting bolt upright, its bright eyes looking at Frendalex. The hare no longer looked ill at all; in fact he had become the most magnificent buck hare the people had ever seen.

In one movement Frendalex ripped the chain loose and dropped the silver on to the table. She raised her arm and held the wizened pendant up in the air.

"You have brought me good luck,” she said, and with that she swallowed the strange object whole.

Now everyone who saw what happened that day has a slightly different story of the order in which the changes began, but all agree on how it ended.

First there was a shaft of golden light that made the dark corner as bright as a sunbeam. Then Frendalex’s missing hand seemed to grow back. But as the hand grew back she got smaller and hair began to grow all over her body. The whiskers around her mouth grew longer and lighter and her nose began to twitch.

It was hard to say at which point she became less like an old woman and more like an animal, but everyone agreed that, as their eyes became accustomed to the golden light, there in front of them was the most beautiful golden hare they had ever seen.

It was at that point of recognition that the two hares jumped from the table and through the door. The people raced after them just in time to see them both make a gigantic leap down, down, down into the roots of the old tree.

At once the same golden light spread through the roots and illuminated the tree. Within seconds, in front of their disbelieving eyes, wonderful golden fruit filled the branches.

So, there you are - that is the story of Frendalex. But please remember this: should you ever be in an inn, pub or tavern and someone old is sitting in the corner who looks a little odd, don't rush to judge them. You will have no idea what brought them there or who they really might be.

(illustration by Ellie Garratt)

(second illustration added on 8 August 2024 after being found in a diary from 2010 where it was sketched at a restaurant called L'esperance during a family meal)